Edward & Me
by Starskysea
Summary: AU: 'Edward never met Bella. Instead, he met me.' But embarking in a relationship with a fictional character isn't all that easy, especially when you find out that the person he's destined to be with lives just around the corner...
1. Chapter 1

_Here it is, my first posted Twilight fanfic, the one I thought less likely to be posted until I found it a few days ago and got carried away. Initially meant to be a oneshot, but my fingers decided to follow a path of their own, so there might be many chapters, maybe even some sort of decent plot, and hopefully a decent ending—I tend to stop most of my stories midway. But enough with the pessimism: please, just read the story, and review if you have anything to say. I am always delighted to receive feedback, so if you review, you make my day __J_

_Enjoy!_

A/N 2012: Edited and hopefully improved. I'm thinking of continuing this story once I take the glitches out of the other chapters.

Disclaimer: None of the original characters belong to me. That said, I did base the main character Elizabeth (and this is embarrassing to admit but I must get through with it) on myself. When I started writing the story, I in effect had day dreams while sitting in English class (and antagonized by a teacher with the same initials) of Edward walking in. So welcome inside my brain :P

**Edward & Me**

**by: Starskysea**

I had imagined meetings with Edward Cullen, certainly, in many different circumstances, places, under various conditions and in diverse moods—only of course, I never expected it to happen. Nor in such a common, local way.

It was English class again, resulting in the usual tedium with no knowledge attached: English was probably the only lesson where we learned absolutely nothing, or in any case, learned little while spending such a disagreeable time. Our teacher, a certain Miss G, had a strong foreign accent which hinted at her total incompetence, another hint being her terrible reputation, which preceded her pompously and made her total uselessness known all around the school and out of it. Indeed, I was a buff of complaining about her to all my friends and listening to their compassionate witticisms.

But, although I was ready for the worst, that lesson took a much unexpected turn: we had a new student. It happened seldom, even seldomer like this, in the middle of the year, in the middle of the third period. A new student had been rumoured of, formerly, but did such wonders ever really happen? Soon, talk of him or her died out, and I was among the only ones left wondering whether he or she would come, and sincerely hoping it would be a 'he', for we much lacked of such specimens at our school. Nonetheless, the great event finally took place, and consequently, there I was, staring expectantly at the door all throughout the lesson, hoping to see it open and let the new student through. After about half an hour of restive alertness, I tired of waiting, and lowered my eyes to my current literary fetish, _Pride and Prejudice_, an experiment of sorts since I had till then been unfamiliar with the classics. My engrossment in the novel was so complete that I failed to hear the creak of a door opening, and didn't notice the peculiar silence that ensued. I glanced up only when the teacher cleared her throat to speak, and once I did, I could no longer lower my eyes back to the book. Before me stood a god, a god whose name I knew instinctively, without needing to think, probe or doubt.

The god was Edward Cullen.

Only after the initial shock did I have time to consider that my suppositions were absurd. Even if it _were_ Edward Cullen (a faint tremor of excitement shook me)—allowing that it could happen—the possibility was infinitesimally small. And, come on, there HAD to be guys out there with perfectly smooth pale skin, copper hair, amazing topaz eyes (and I was careful to single the eye color out…just in case they happened to be deep black and I should sound an alarm) and the most beautiful face I had ever seen. Guys, who were also, incidentally, named Edward Cullen.

"Class, this is Edward Cullen." announced Miss G with a self-satisfied smirk. "I trust you admire and love the English language, Edward, and that you shall take my class all the more seriously because I insist you all be very proficient in this domain. You are my advanced group," she addressed herself to all of us now, trying to rally us to her cause with one of her frequent speeches, "and I know you have a lot of potential, if only you worked harder!" Edward surveyed us with a calm gaze, and I was sure that he could read Miss G's thoughts and see just how much sincerity her words held.

"You can sit there, Edward." Miss G motioned towards and empty seat at the very back of the class, not far from where I sat with my best friend Danica. I glanced at her then, checking for her reaction. She mouthed a silent 'OMG' at me and I nodded, eyes wide. She was the only one in class apart from me to have read Twilight and New Moon, the only one in school, probably, to be as much a fan of it as I was.

I saw Edward moving slowly towards his new desk, saw him seem to slow down even more as his head suddenly snapped towards me and his hands balled into fists, saw his chest stop rising and falling. 'Oh shit' I thought, and my muscles tensed as he came, at a snail's pace, to sit down at his assigned place and start gazing away into the distance of the open window, fists pressed tight under his desk, chest as still as the desk itself.

"Oh my god…" it was barely a whisper, but the tone conveyed all the emotions Danica was probably working her way through right now; amazement, excitement, perplexion and fear. "Do you think…?"

I realized I had stopped breathing, and took a lungful of air before whispering back: "I don't really want to find out."

I could feel my body shaking, and worked on easing my muscles and moving as little as necessary. The more my pulse slowed right now, the greater my chance of coming out of the classroom alive. Slowly, I lifted both arms and scooped my long brown hair into one hand, securing it with my inseparable elastic band into a tight bun coiled at the nape of my neck. Even slower, I lowered an arm, stretching the other one in the air with deliberate weakness. It took a moment before the teacher noticed, but when she did, I heard her satisfying response:

"Yes, Elizabeth? What is it?" she asked with what was supposed to be a pleasant voice. I took on a dejected, sickly tone.

"I…don't…feel very well. My head hurts and I'm getting nauseous. Can I go down to the library…please…?"

Miss G wasn't the nicest person on earth, but she wasn't the brightest either, and the concept of letting me puke on one of her desks was quite unacceptable. Added to that, she didn't want to appear outright unpleasant in front of the new and rather attractive student, so grudgingly she let me out. Slowly, more for his sake than mine, I gathered my things and skirted the room, aiming above all to avoid Edward's vicinity. I didn't even feel tempted to shake my hand towards him, just to see if it was really my…smell that made him so tense. If he was indeed THE Edward, then I didn't want to risk my life unnecessarily in futile inquiries.

The rest of the period was spent in agitation. Sitting in the library, I was constantly tempted to run back to the classroom and ask Edward if he was a vampire or not. Literally. It was horrible not to know, to be left with only a guess, without any certainty whatsoever. Painful, too, that there would probably be no way to approach him about it. It's not like I could come up to him and ask: "Hello, are you a vampire? Edward Cullen? I know it's you, but just in case. And oh-by-the-way do you want to suck me dry? If the answer is affirmative, would you mind abstaining somehow? I hold to my life rather dearly thank you very much." Not like I could come up to him point blank anyway. He could pounce on me any moment and decapitate me: I wouldn't make that option even easier for him. And somewhere, deep inside, I wondered whether he could read my mind…or not. Whether maybe, just maybe, I could be like Bella for him. Actually, where WAS Bella? Her absence irked me, and I wondered where exactly in time we were situated. Was this after the imminent change, and Bella was simply in another class, waiting to see her beloved again during break? Maybe this was Edward, seeking 'distractions' during the middle of New-Moon, fresh from the pain of separation and ready to hear my heartfelt consolations. Or was this before Twilight altogether, where the place beside Edward was still free, free for another to fill it. If it were so, then would I be able to take Bella's place in cold blood, knowing that I would probably never be as good as her, making Edward miss out on a part of his life? Or would history re-write itself from top to bottom, and I would be the new Bella, the real version in a parallel universe.

But I was getting ahead of myself. I didn't even know if Edward was THE Edward, if he was really free, and if so, whether it would be me taking Bella's place, or anyone else for that matter. Maybe Edward held on to his celibacy—or maybe I was just being carried away by infatuated delusions, playing the heroine without knowing the setting. And even while the rational part of my mind was trying to bring my heart back to a regular rhythm, my brain couldn't help supplying me with images of that perfect pale figure, the striking hair color, the dark shadows under his incredibly golden eyes set in the beautiful, surreal face. Only after I had left the room did I realize how misplaced Edward's perfection seemed in the somehow obscene setting: my dirty classroom in a bustling city would never compare with Bella's enchanting, mysterious Forks; my own boring self could never equal the attraction of Bella's clumsy, intoxicating charm. What would Edward, even if he _were_ THE Edward, ever want with me? I was just a common girl with smellier blood than most: he could live through that—he already had. Unless the timelines had gone askew, this was 2007, two years since Romeo had met Juliet, and destiny had unwound as it had. I had no reason, no incentive to hope—yet I couldn't stop myself.

Pictures flashed through my mind: an empty sidewalk, me, walking, cheeks red from the cold, tripping over a crack in the cement, cold, hard arms catching me, just before I hit the ground. Or maybe a school project—I would end up on his team: he would be tense, my smell still strong, my mind unreadable, and, as with Bella, he wouldn't be able to keep away. Climbing through my window at night to watch me dream. Seeing a book in my backpack—Twilight, maybe, or New Moon, sparking a long, profound conversation on the nature of vampires and on the truths of existence. And Bella, how would I explain Bella to him? If he didn't know her already, how could I keep my sights on him, knowing as I did that he was already destined for another by omniscient cosmic forces. I would be his friend, if I couldn't be more.

Even as guilt at inexistent but attractive options plagued me, I told myself how irrational the whole enterprise was. Edward would never be mine, so I shouldn't feel uneasy at the idea of stealing him from Bella—it would never happen. I was stupid: beyond stupid; it was foolish and ridiculous to imagine these scenarios, and if Edward actually _could_ read my thoughts—which was probably true considering there was only one exception to the rule, and it was not me, then I was in big, embarrassing trouble right now.

So I spent the last thirty minutes or so of the lesson down in the library, trying to crush the seed of dumb hope inside me before it could grow into vine creepers and submerge my body and mind entirely.

I was still on the brink of insanity when the bell rang, still desperately blushing at my idiotic fantasies when Danica rushed into the big hall and up to the armchair which had become the centre of my little universe.

"Oh my god" was the first thing she said as she pulled up a chair and grabbed my hand. "Did you _see_ that?"

Suddenly, there was danger again, as ghostly shadows of the balled up fists floated in front of my eyes, and I remembered what Stephenie Meyer had written on her website for the first chapter of Midnight Sun—if Edward's character hadn't somehow changed after he had impossibly sprung out of a young adult book into the real world, then he had probably been coming up with ways of killing me right there, in class, for those few seconds we had been in the same room together. I didn't know if I should feel flattered or afraid, but the problem resolved itself quickly as shivers ran down my spine. Suddenly, I felt like I could cry: the hysteria was finally taking over—I started shaking, and I could feel my face disintegrate into a mask of horror.

"What's the matter?" Danica asked, her eyebrows pulling together with confusion. "Edward's here. He noticed you. This is amazing!" My eyes grew wide under the effect of shock as I was abruptly placed before all the implications of that one fact. Edward's here. Apocalypse day had arrived.

My hands reached up to grab Danica's shoulders and I started rocking back and forth, moaning slightly with the ebbing tides of a headache.

"Do you know what this means…?" I whispered, my eyes wild, my teeth chattering.

"Of course! This is great! We'll get to meet Edward in flesh: imagine, we can talk to him, tell him we know everything, become friends…" I shuddered at the idea that I had been thinking that myself, only minutes ago. Now, the notion seemed oddly irrelevant, set against the terrifying big picture.

"Dani." I almost shrieked, adrenaline starting to pump through my body, making everything bright and blurry at the same time. Heat rushed to my face, not the unpleasant heat of a blush but the sharp heat of danger. "This isn't normal!" Sobs were wracking me, as I tried to make her understand. I started shaking her shoulders, trying, probably, to rattle her into attention. "This isn't okay, Dani, this is…Edward's FICTION, for god's sake! He's not real. Stephenie Meyer invented him. She made him. People live in Forks, the real Forks. They read the book. There is no Edward there! No Edward in Forks, no Bella in Phoenix, no Charlie. No NO ONE! No vampires. It's all imagined! People met Stephenie Meyer, talked to her, saw the drafts…her characters can't be real. So why is Edward walking around town? Why is a fictional character walking around my school, putting people in danger…?"

"But he won't." Danica's tone was of utter mystification. "He's a good vampire…the Cullen's don't hunt people." I was near the point of yelling. I shook her again, harder.

"Don't you SEE? Can't you understand? He's not REAL! He doesn't exist! And if, defying all the laws of nature, he appears among us, what does that say about all the other books, all the other characters, places…what does that say about reality, if something impossible becomes possible? Does this mean we're going to see wizards walking around the street, looking for butterbeer in the supermarkets? Will house elves plague the shopping centers? What does that say about all the bad people, too? What if Voldemort gets here too? Worse—the serial killers from novels, the monsters from movies: all the zombies, assassins, cyborgs, mutants, the deadly viruses, cataclysms, undead beings from beyond this universe…Dani, how can we trust what we know, now that everything is upside down?" And I shook, and shook, and shook her, imagining the cyclones and earthquakes and devastations, crying tears of despair as suddenly, reality was slipping past me, seeping through my outstretched fingers like sand in the hourglass of death.

Danica's response didn't make it past her lips as we both became aware of the third person, standing in the doorway of the library, glaring at us even as his beautifully puzzled expression made us understand that he had heard everything, or at least a significant part of our unintelligible conversation.


	2. Chapter 2

**Edward & Me**

**by: Starskysea**

In one second, my mind snapped back to reality, thinking in the present instead of the future. I was acutely aware of the firm set of his jaw, the way his body never seemed to relax, even though we had been staring at each other for over a minute. Edward Cullen. His lovely brows were pulled together in confusion, so I supposed Danica was thinking about how wonderful he looked, and not about the matter at hand. I didn't know about my thoughts—didn't know if he could hear them, and the idea that he might truly be able to made me blush as I realized that if he did hear them, he would probably be wondering what was going on. And, for that matter, it could have been Dani's mind that was closed off to him, or no-one's.

And finally, I remembered the interaction we had had back in class; I went rigid with fear as I recollected that he was dangerous—dangerous beyond anything we had ever known. Dangerous to me…or had I only imagined the blank look on his face a he stared out of the window, away from my neck. His still chest—oh how I loathed the waiting, the silence, the not knowing, never being sure.

My emotions were probably playing out across my face, easier to read than a children's book. I knew my eyebrows were bent into a very distinguishable frown, making my forehead and cheeks ache. Though pain was the last thing I cared about now. Other things were more important. His ochre eyes for instance, boring into me, making movement difficult and breathing impossible. My heart was beating fast, driven by overwhelming panic, and that made me even more afraid, because he probably heard the erratic heartbeat, connected it in his mind to the pumping of warm blood around my body…

Cold shivers ran down my spine for the umpteenth time. His eyes still glued me to the spot like twin beacons. He could have me now. Easily. Five steps and he could be next to me, my neck within reach, my blood sweet and…

Suddenly, Danica turned to look at me, hissing something through her teeth that sounded like a warning, and Edward took a step back, still wary, still infinitely destructive. My limbs turned to jelly, but I was also feeling a strange, terror-triggered determination surging inside me. What did he want? Should I tell him? Should I talk to him right now, while he was still there, accessible? Or should I ignore him, get back to a safer conversation; make sure he understood that I wouldn't divulge his secret, but that I wasn't planning on making further acquaintance either. Danica's voice broke through the haze that enveloped my mind, and I realized she was one step ahead of me when I managed to take her words in.

"So what I was saying was that I really think the new guy is sort of cute, and doesn't he look like that _fictional_ character from that book we were reading…?" Her voice sounded fabricated: too cheerful and synthetic to be believable. Instinctively, I glanced at the door: no one was standing there, eavesdropping on us. No copper-haired angel was frowning at us as we spilled out our concerns over his unexplainable appearance. I could finally breathe.

I leaned into the sofa, inhaling rapidly as if the air could somehow get into my cranium and clear my head. The yellow walls of the room were making me dizzy, as was the stuffy air and the unbearable heat from unopened windows and radiators turned on to the maximum.

"Dani…" I moaned, unable to keep up at her game. "This can't be happening. I don't want it to happen…" And who'd have thought that only yesterday, my greatest dream was to meet Edward Cullen, and only half an hour ago I was making sweet plans for the upcoming forever. Now, all I wanted was for the subject of my daydreams to disappear. A girl could only take that much insanity in one day: my dose for the year had been used up in a matter of minutes. Edward Cullen felt like my greatest enemy.

"Shush." My best friend commanded, placing a hand on my forehead and squeezing my arm with the other. "You'll be fine."

I chuckled; what came out was a constricted, demented sound.

"Yeah…a fictional character out of a vampire book somehow makes his way to my school and is probably lusting for my blood. But I'll be ok. Absolutely ok." My sarcasm was marred by hysteria. I had trouble breathing for what seemed like the hundredth time today. I still wasn't reconciled with the notion that Edward, Edward Cullen, the _vampire_, was here. For real. I would have liked this all to be a dream, but I knew the difference between reverie and reality. And I knew that this was real, no matter how much my mind fought against it.

"Well, we can always find out…" I stared at Danica, startled out of my trance.

"Like how? Ask him if he's really what we think he is? How do you imagine _that_ would go down?"

"We don't ask _him_," she answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, all the while pulling me towards the computers. "We ask _her_."

"Bella?" I was lost. My brain was still functioning at a quarter of its usual speed.

"Wow…for someone who's so keen on disproving the fact that Edward Cullen is real, you sure have trouble coping with genuine everyday life." Danica rolled her eyes at me. I just gaped. Everyday life felt like an eternity ago.

"We ask her: Stephenie Meyer, creator of Twilight, and, incidentally, our friendly vampire over there." She gestured vaguely towards the door, encompassing the whole of school.

"Friendly…?" I muttered, and let myself be dragged by my down-to-earth friend to the answer of all questions. Danica seemed to be taking this much more coolly than I. I just hoped that whatever she had in mind would work, and soon.

She sat me down in front of a free computer, and with a few taps on the keyboard found her way to Stephenie Meyer's homepage.

"Now, you write an e-mail" she announced. I shook my head slowly, too dazed to fully comprehend, even now.

"To whom?" I asked, confused. Danica just stared at me expectantly. It took me a while to comprehend, but finally, I got that far. "Oh" I murmured, understanding dawning on my face. "Do you think she'd know?" I pondered, reluctant to make the first step.

"Only one way to find out." Danica smiled encouragingly. She was handling this better than I was: I was still walking with one foot over the drop towards psychosis—all forms of focus evaded me, and the ceiling was still spinning, though less than before.

"Alright…" I sighed, but before I could start composing my thoughts, the first bell rang and a ruffled librarian emerged from a row of bookshelves to glare at us dismissively.

"What are you still doing here, girls? Class starts in less than five minutes—hurry, hurry!" She ushered us out of the room with small waves of her pudgy hands. I stiffly closed the internet window and stood up after Danica, who was already halfway out the door.

"Wait up!" I yelled. Danica was probably the only thing keeping me sane right now: she was impressively calm. My foot caught the doorjamb, and I lurched forward, regaining my balance just in time, slightly surprised that no cold white hands had caught me. So I still had _those_ impulses, I scolded myself. I could finally give myself credit for the veracity of what I had feigned back in English class: I was sick, utterly and completely sick, morally and physically. My subconscious was, in spite of everything, infatuated, obsessed with a phantom. My consciousness, however, was dead afraid of the real thing.

I stumbled into geography just before the last bell chimed my demise. I couldn't afford to be late.

I couldn't afford to be here either, though: Edward Cullen was sitting in the very front row, averting his rapidly darkening eyes from my dishevelled form.

And there was someone else too, I noted with bewilderment: gazing curiously at me, sitting a seat behind Edward, Alice Cullen in all her pixie glory.

I couldn't take this anymore. Without looking at either of the two…beings, I rushed along the row of desks to my own place at the back of the class. I wouldn't fake my way out of lessons this time: let Edward's fictional family deal with his fictional urges—I wouldn't disrupt my own life for someone who wasn't even real. With that resolution in mind, I set myself to listen to a lecture about hunger in the middle East, ignoring the two obvious exceptions to the laws of nature as thoroughly as I could. And even then, sometimes, when I wasn't concentrating enough, my eyes were drawn like magnets to the two surreal creatures, drinking in the pale skin, absorbing the nondescript but definitely expensive clothes, the hair, a sliver of face if one of them turned slightly, prompted by some question or diversion. Was I the only one in this classroom to know their terrifying secret? Was I the only one to wonder if they really shone in the sunlight, if they really were fast as lightning, strong as bears, if they really drank…blood? And I regretted not having looked at their faces properly before. All those details provided by Stephenie Meyer radiated from the two individuals; and even though I denied it, I could still profit from the opportunity of looking at the two perfect beings that I had longed to meet for months.

So, the lesson passed. Clear while I was looking at their blinding beauty, as if the colors and shapes that were part of them stood out more than the rest; blurry otherwise. The middle East lost itself in the brightness of their skin, hungry children were drowned out by their graceful movements; reality forgotten as I stared at their flawlessness with awe.

Alright; so I looked at them a bit more than I pretended to, more than I would have allowed myself if I could only resist the attraction of their mere existence. The drone of the lesson was gently dissolving my fears, letting the initial fascination rise up again, the old dreams make their way towards the surface. I caught myself in a pretend conversation with Alice, carried through dark woods as fast as the wind on Edward's back. And as soon as I thought of it, I loathed the principle. Whatever I would do, I wouldn't play Bella. It would be me or no-one, I realized, as I sifted through my options carefully, searching for loopholes. Either the whole pace of destiny changed itself to accommodate me in its grand design, or I remained no one. There was no third option. If Bella existed, I would not steal what was rightfully hers, even if that were in any way possible. And if she didn't exist—well, who was I to claim that I could interest one such as Edward Cullen?

And I still didn't know if Edward could read my mind or not.

I tortured myself all the way home: I still hadn't been able to observe their faces, as they had left immediately after the bell, as swiftly as I had always imagined. My copy of Twilight was still safely stowed away in my backpack: I flipped through it on the bus, seeking out telltale descriptions. As far as I could see, all the details coincided. If these weren't the Cullens, walking around my school, then they were admirably done copies, if one could clone a vampire. I chuckled lightly to myself, already at ease with the notion of vampiric infestation in the neighborhood. That made me chuckle too. Everything made me chuckle—maybe this was just an alternative form of hysteria catching up with me. It was bearable. I was in a good mood: too good for the circumstances, good enough for me too sneak a peek out of the window, checking for any Gandalfs that might have been walking around. My theory on reality vs. fiction was still working, but right now, I found the concept of Orks or demons ambling on the streets funny rather than terrifying.

There was something to be said for the state of deep shock, at least.

It finally got the better of me, late at night, while I was lying in bed, suffering from adrenaline-induced insomnia. I lay huddled under my sheets, staring out of the window, trying to perceive any sign of a snarling face and hands clawing at the panes, trying to get in. Even the idea of seeing a peaceful silhouette waiting for me to fall asleep so it could come closer and listen to any garbled sounds I might utter during my sleep horrified me. My brain worked a thousand times faster than usual, struggling to sort through all of the information it had been crowded with during the day.

On the one hand, there was rationality telling me that I had been caught in one big, convincing delusion: that I would get back to school tomorrow and find a Jeremy and a Lydia there instead of the two familiar characters that haunted my waking life. And even if it were real, Mr. Coherent told me, then that life was not meant for me: I would get back the normal, ordinary world, I would learn to bear and even enjoy the distance I ought to constantly put between myself and those mythical beings. On the other hand, I dreamed. Long strands of conversation floated though my mind, provided undoubtedly by my overactive imagination: scenes where I was implacably being a Bella for those I cared so much about, snippets of events where I would be the main protagonist surrounded by my immortal family. It was horrible. The pain of those thoughts was atrocious: I was no Bella. Our minds, and I had spent enough time analyzing Twilight and New Moon to know that, were nothing alike: our brains had entirely different ways of functioning, providing completely different reactions to analogous situations, leading similarly started conversations on entirely different paths. Seeing as Edward had fallen in love with the genuine Bella, I had no chance of ever making my way into his world in such a fashion. So what was left for me? Shame at my stupid fantasies? Disgust at my horrendous lack of self-restraint? The uneasy feeling that still came with the awareness of what I had witnessed today? And that slim sliver of hope when I remembered Edwards balled fists, that ever-still chest, and those golden eyes staring out at me with anger and something more—eyes that reminded me that I had been special enough to attract Edward's attention, even though that meant putting me in danger. Hence the inevitable staring out of the window, expecting to see his form at one point or other of the night.

He never came, and I fell asleep, agitated by the many thoughts that would not stay still inside me.

**Wow…thanks for the reviews! And, to answer blufiresprite's initial question: I guess you could say it's fairly half/half. Elizabeth does not have a best friend called Danica, although she knows someone whose name is quite similar and is, incidentally, also a great fan of New Moon/Twilight. Their characters, though, do not coincide. Elizabeth's school and everything inside it, however, is quite similar to mine. And Elizabeth train of thought is a lot like mine, too. Questioning and analyzing everything, going into long daydreams about pretty much anything…. Actually, the inside of Elizabeth's head is nearly identical to mine. Although I _have_ changed a few details…**


	3. Chapter 3

**Edward & Me**

**by: Starskysea**

When I woke up, a bluish light was piercing through a slit in the curtains: this was not morning-it was dawn. The alarm clock on my bedside table glared at me: 6 a.m., much earlier than the time I usually woke up at—for me, later was always better, generally resulting in tardiness, wherefrom stemmed my absolute fear of not being on time for lessons. I didn't want 'lateness' to show up on my personal record and mar my career options forever.

I squeezed my eyes tightly shut and tried to sink back into the warm comfort of slumber…in vain. Something kept tugging at my mind, keeping me on the doorway of awakenness and miles away from sleep. Finally, I decided to get up and face the day. I might as well take the time to prepare: do something interesting with my hair, maybe, or put extra care into my choice of outfit. But at the thought of curling irons and miniskirts, I sighed: my case was definitely hopeless. For me, it would be plain tee-shirts and hoodies, with the same worn pair of jeans that was fraying along the edges since I'd worn them ice skating two years ago. Notwithstanding, I wanted to sport something special today: I dug around the bottom of my drawer until I found what I wanted: a dark blue shirt that hugged my contours nicely when I cared to put it on, and a pair of black pants that I'd worn once or twice to dress parties my parents forced me to attend with them. After trying a few styles with my hair and not finding anything I liked, I gave up with a sigh and let my brown curls billow loosely around my face. By the time it was 6:30, I had nothing left to do. Almost unconsciously, I turned my computer on, and started surfing the net. With unexplainable purpose, I went on Stephenie Meyer's website, and clicked on 'contact'. My fingers, of themselves, flew over the keyboard. My heart rate quickened. I knew distinctly where this was going; on a path I would rather forget the existence of.

"_Dear Stephenie_" my fingers started. I had been meaning to write to her for so long, not knowing what to say that others hadn't mentioned before me. She already knew her writing was amazing, her characters beautiful, her plots intriguing. She already knew how she inspired amateur writers, or how interesting her books were. For once though, she would hear something new:

"_Yesterday, something strange happened._" And somehow, tears started running down my cheeks as my fingers unremittingly tapped my story out.

"_I don't know how: these things don't happen in real life. You read stories about stories, of course, but you know the different between tales and reality. So why is it that yesterday, a fairytale came true? Or a nightmare, I'm not sure yet. You must be wondering what I'm talking about, right? You'll never believe me, but you're the only person I can talk to about it, apart from maybe Danica, and them, if I find enough courage to do it. I don't think I will. It's a hopeless situation. Because I can't really approach him, can I, not after pinpointing all the symptoms. Edward, I mean. And Alice, she's there too. See, I told you this would sound crazy. The Cullens. I haven't seen Rosalie and Jasper and Emmet yet, and I don't even know if I will, because I can't situate this on the timeline. So I thought you could help me. What would you do if the Cullens appeared in your hometown, in the flesh? And Edward incidentally seemed to have a problem with the smell of your blood?"_

I paused. My e-mail wasn't sounding very coherent, but I didn't have the energy to correct my mistakes. Stephenie would just have to read it as it was. I thought back upon this night's dream. Something about meeting a brown haired Edward on a train, and teddy bears and cliffs made out of birthday cards. My dreams rarely made sense. Why was I even thinking of them now? I continued writing.

"_My point is, I'm kind of confused. Because I don't know if you knew that your characters were real before you started writing. Or if somehow, they came out of your books after you published them. Or from an alternate universe. That would be weird. But no weirder than now._" I took a deep breath. I had to be more articulate, or Stephenie might just take this for a hoax and never answer me. I didn't need that kind of letdown right now. I didn't know whether I could take it.

"_The fact is, Edward appeared in my class yesterday. He's a new student. At the beginning, I couldn't believe it was him, but when he passed next to me on the way to his seat, I saw him tense and…his hands balled up into fists and he stopped breathing. For the rest of the lesson. So I faked that I was sick to get out of the classroom. In case…you know. And then, I saw him and Alice, in the next class. It's driving me nuts, because all the details fit. Pale skin, graceful, and so on. Only, I didn't take the time to look at their faces. I freaked out. I could try and take photos if you want, and send them to you. If you don't know they exist. If you do, could we talk about it, please? Because I'm sort of going insane right now. From not being sure._" There wasn't much more I could say at this point.

"_I'm not lying. This isn't some kind of practical joke. God knows I don't have enough imagination for that. It's all true. As far as what I could tell with my own eyes, those were the Cullens. And I'm not crazy either. This hasn't ever happened to me before. I'm sane, normal. I could send photos of them, and videos, if I manage to take them. Please, believe me._"

I added the only thing I really needed right now:

"_Help?_"

Then, I sank back into my chair, inhaling and exhaling slowly, trying not to hyperventilate.

Would I be able to send this? Was it worth it? Maybe I should wait: who knew if yesterday was just some sort of very convincing dream, or a hallucination or something equally unreal. Perhaps I should wait and check, today, make sure I was right before taking measures. Instinctively, I glanced out of the window—there was no sun, so the Cullens, if they weren't stopped by something else, should be in school. No, I decided—I wasn't insane, I had definitely seen something, and I wouldn't wait. I clicked on the 'send' button before I could change my mind, and quickly shut everything down. There was no point in doubting. Alice and Edward were definitely something outside the boundaries of 'normal', as Bella had pointed out in Twilight (my brain immediately revolted, but I tuned the incessant stream of denials out). And, knowing that, how far off could 'vampires' and 'characters out of books' be. Stephenie had dreamed up the whole Forks story. Maybe some sort of powerful waves had chosen her mind to lodge themselves in: an alien current of information had decided that she would be the one to tell the Cullen's story. Or maybe Stephenie knew all along that her characters were real: maybe they had asked her themselves to carve the various events they had lived through into the undying face of classic literature. It made me wonder what part Bella played in this, even as my mind grew tired of wondering. Unconsciously, I shut myself down. I dozed in my computer chair until the alarm clock buzzed my deadline, 7:50, and I had to rush through the daily morning routine before running out the door and schholward.

I was late, again.

It seemed to be becoming a pattern, but as I burst into class five minutes after the bell, a pair of golden orbs greeted me from the middle row. Edward scowled at me for a millisecond before quickly turning his gaze away. My eyes fell. This was French class, with the particularity that there were no assigned seats. Usually, this would have been a good thing, allowing me to sit next to one of my friends. Unfortunately, latecomers didn't get to pick. And the only empty space left was the one I dreaded most to be sitting in: the one next to Edward Cullen himself.

"Bonjour Elisabeth. Vous êtes en retard—qu'est-ce qui vous est arrivé?" the teacher, a certain Mrs. F, asked me.

"Désolé." I muttered, before starting the long, perilous way to my desk. It felt like every stray backpack, every boot-clad foot, every single chair leg was a dangerous impediment that my nerve-wracked body would not be able to avoid. And at the end of the obstacle course, there would be a far greater danger waiting for me, inescapable and ominous.

I took a deep breath. Everyone seemed to be looking at me, except one…_creature_ whose name I didn't dare think aloud. I tried to be as inconspicuous as possible about my next move; scrapping my hair into a knot at the base of my scalp-something which would probably grow into a permanent hairdo if things continued—and hugging the vest I was wearing tighter around my shivering frame. Luckily, it was my mothers; an affair that she wore rarely, and only for going out: it held practically none of my scent, actually giving off the strong smell of my mothers perfume and cigarette smoke. It probably wasn't noticeable to anyone in class, but I was sure Edward, if he could discern that the attention was meant for him, would be grateful.

Time seemed to blur as I walked along the aisle, looking straight ahead, breathing sighs of relief as my classmates attention gradually deviated from me back to each other, and as talk picked up loudly. I hoped the noise would be enough to cover up the thud of my beating heart, which only one person would be able to pick up. I wondered for a second if the sound would make his bloodlust stronger, but decided, for my own sanity, not to dwell on the thought too long.

And finally—finally, I was there. I plopped down in my seat heavily, and immediately sat as still as I could, bringing all unnecessary movement down to a minimum. I didn't even care to open my pencil case or unstack my little pile of books as I generally would have done—I didn't want to make this any harder for Edward by waving my scent around. Sadly though, I wasn't to be let off the hook so easily.

"Eh bien, Elisabeth, comme vous etes en retard, soyez la première à nous faire part de votre fin de semaine." We were in the first part of the French class routine: a thorough description of our weekend-and Mrs. F had decided that, due to my lateness, I would be the first one to bear the torture. I was tempted, for a second, to expose my very strong views on the matter, something along the lines of: "My weekend was blissful; the last chance I had to enjoy a sane, normal life, unmolested by fictional characters come to life and mythical monsters lusting for my blood. This weekend, I just didn't have to face all that. I was still an ordinary teenage girl, not some sort of escapee from 'insanity and delusions' land". Unfortunately, considering next to whom I was sitting, it wasn't a very good idea. And I didn't think my teacher would take it all too well either.

"Euh…j'ai pris le temps de me reposer." I muttered, just loud enough for my words to be heard and taking care not to exhale too much. The whole enterprise was rocketing beyond absurd, I knew that, but this was reality, and even with Edward's spectacular control, I didn't want to take any chances.

"J'ai lu," I continued, seeing the teacher's unsatisfied expression. Indeed I had read: Twilight and New Moon, just as always when the other library books ran out: those two classics were the cement that held my whole existence together. Right now, though, they were menacing to break it apart.

"J'ai passé du temps à l'ordinateur… ?" I hazarded with a pleading glance at Mrs. F. She seemed to think I had done enough, because she dismissed me with a small wave of her hand and turned to another student to continue the interrogation.

I breathed a sigh of relief before remembering that breathing too hard was unwise. I wondered to what extent Edward's…craving controlled his reason. Was it as strong as for Bella? More or less so? I would never know if I didn't ask, and asking seemed out of the question at the moment, or ever. Still, I snuck a glance at him a few minutes later: his head was still resolutely averted from my direction, and he was sitting as far as possible from me on the edge of his chair. His hands were balled into fists, and I hated the deja-vu of the situation, hated the fact that I was the second one to whom it happened, hated that it was happening to me and not somebody else. Where was Bella when you needed her? Where _was_ Bella?

I decided that, while I had some time ahead and no possibility of doing anything else, I would substantiate something that had been bothering me for a while. I shifted a bit, slouching in my chair in preparation for a long hour of lesson, deciding that if I was going to move, I should better do it now than keep it for later and never get to it. Then, I concentrated.

'Edward. Edward Cullen' I thought as hard as I could. Out of the corner of my eye, I checked for any sign that he had received my message. He didn't move, but maybe his control was higher than I thought.

'I know about you. That you're a vampire. Please, if you can hear my thoughts, could you…umm…pick that pencil up and draw a…cross on the desk.' I pictured the standard yellow pencil lying on the flat surface between us, half hoping he would hear me, half wishing he wouldn't.

Edward didn't budge. Either he thought he could pull off the unconcerned act that he was absolutely normal and not at all prone to listening to other peoples thoughts, or he simply couldn't hear me. I fervently hoped it was the second option. If he couldn't hear my thoughts, then many a problem would be solved then and there. I tried not to think of the other problems that would arise, mainly contact: I would have to find a way to talk to him in person, and it wouldn't be easy, though it was tempting.

Without being able to stop myself, I probed gently:

"Edward…?" I whispered, so quietly that I could barely hear myself. He flinched; a shadow of expression flickered across his face before sinking back into the neutral mask he had been sporting for the last fifteen minutes.

Nevertheless, I was happy: the experiment was bringing results. The life-endangering position I was in slipped my thoughts as I tried again.

"Edward Cullen?" I whispered, a bit louder this time, to make an impact, maybe, or to draw more of a reaction from him. This time though, nothing happened; Edward was as motionless as stone, and still not looking at me. I turned back to face the front of the class, sighing in resignation as I though of the dull hour ahead. Just as that thought crossed my mind, I saw something white flicker next to me and fall into my lap. My heartbeat picked up as I slowly lowered my eyes to the smoothly folded piece of paper perched precariously on my knees. I caught my breath: that was simple, incredibly simple. I hadn't expected contact to be established so straightforwardly. Before it could fall to the ground—I didn't need any more trouble with Mrs. F—I grabbed it and unfolded it as gently as I could. There, in one of the finest, most beautiful scripts I had ever seen, were written six very simple little words:

"_How do you know my name?_"

That was easy:

"_I heard it in class, yesterday._" I scribbled back, disappointed by how my untidy, lopsided scrawl compared to his perfect handwriting. Afraid to attempt throwing the paper back on his lap, I slid it carefully along the desk until it came into his line of sight. I left it there, retrieving my hand quickly. Almost too fast for me to see, the paper disappeared from view. He leaned forward, hiding what he was writing with one big shoulder. I was breathing faster with excitement now, I realized, and thought how utterly unhealthy it was for me to get wound up like this next to a bloodthirsty vampire who could probably sense my cheeks warming from the place where he was sitting, only a short distance away. Before I could start calming myself down though, the note found its way effortlessly back to my lap, and a new wave of curiosity and excitement overwhelmed me. Quickly, quicker than before, I unfolded the paper to find more words written on it.

"_What do you want?_"

That was harder: I wanted a lot of things. I wanted him to stop craving my blood, if that was indeed what this was all about. I wanted to talk to him properly, openly, share thoughts and impressions. I wanted to meet the rest of his family; ask about their life, where they had lived, what they had seen. Become friends.

I almost didn't realize I was hearing it then; the impossibly smooth, velvety voice of an angel, _his_ voice, which I hadn't even had the chance to hear before, was suddenly ringing sweet melodious notes as he answered a question barely a metre away from me.

"La voiture de Janine était bleue" sounded like music from heaven when uttered by a superior being like him. I sat still for a few seconds, repeating the beautiful echo in my head over and over again. Suddenly, I could understand where Bella's attraction for him came from. Automatically, I turned my head towards him, only to find that he was looking at me too. Our eyes met, his golden orbs sending intensity and meaning towards me, his perfect angelic face, every feature tense, still more beautiful than anything I had seen before.

It took me almost an eternity to manage to look away. When I did, I knew exactly what I wanted. My hands shaking, my breath coming ragged out of my lungs, I bent down to scrawl my intent on the piece of paper that was suddenly a link between me and infinity.

"_I want to get to know you._"

I dropped the note into his now outstretched hand, and turned away with a sharp intake of breath. It was bad, very bad for me to get so keyed up, and I concentrated on breathing for a while, still not looking at Edward. It was my turn to abstain now.

He was still mulling over my message, so, grasping at distractions, I turned to one of my friends who had been calling my name with insistence: I answered her question on conjugation and engaged in a conversation about the unfairness of Mrs. F's bigotry in connection to my tardiness without really getting into it. I pulled away with relief when I felt the little white note fall into my lap for a third time. I picked it up, tense with anticipation. On it was written one expression, one single expression that sent my heart into jeopardy.

"_So be it_."

I was headed for heaven on a ray of light.

**Thank you again for all the fabulous reviews! Inquiries about Bella have come pretty often…don't worry, I'll get to her in a few chapters, and she **_**will**_** have a central part in the plot. Although I'm not telling you what it is :P**

**All I can say is that this story is going to go in ways unexpected (even for me)…**

**Little A/N: There is no 'contact' key on Stephenie Meyer's website. I totally looked for it or anything like it, but nada. So just pretend there is, and everything's as simple as clicking on it, writing your message and sending. I wish … :P**


	4. Chapter 4

**Edward & Me**

**by: Starskysea**

When the bell rang, though, Edward left as quickly as usual, abandoning me in a state of deep agitation. I had a promise, feeble though it was, but still validated on a piece of paper, documentation of the fact that I had spoken with a myth, and that I had secured at least _one_ other conversation.

I saw Alice in my next lesson, Math, and noticed her throwing me curious glances from time to time. I wondered what she was seeing, and whether it was anything relevant, maybe even meaningful.

And the absence of Bella was still completely unnerving. Where could she be? Why wasn't she appearing, in one of my lessons, maybe, or in the hallway, as a stunning vampire or still a clumsy human girl? I doubted Edward would have consented to a 'rendez-vous' with me if he had more important occupations, and that led me once again to doubt: in this reality, did Bella even exist at all? It all came back to that one concept again: reality. Was this real? Did Twilight happen in an alternate universe? If so, how did Stephenie Meyer get to it? Or maybe we, here, lived in an alternate universe. How many of them were there, anyway? Hundreds? Thousands? An infinity seemed more likely…

I shook my head, trying to clear my mind. That was huge, immense, much too complicated for my small human mind. I was wrong: probably wandering in the middle of nowhere. My imagination simply running amuck. And it didn't matter. How Edward had gotten into my life had no importance: what I would _do_ about it, that was the essential question.

I could do nothing. I could ignore the fact entirely. I could act as coolly towards the Cullens as towards anyone else in school, overlooking their paranormal little secret, treating them like the commonest of mortals. It was not my fate to have anything big by way of destiny: I was a common girl in a common world, who had stumbled across too big a morsel to chew. I would leave it lying on the table for others to sample. Bella, perhaps?

And the '_what if's_' kept coming back, no matter how hard I tried to push them away…

That hour was one of the scariest I had ever had to live through. Never had I been confronted by something that shook my beliefs and securities in regard to my existence as much as during those few insignificant minutes. There was something vertiginous about the yellow walls of the classroom, as if they were menacing to vanish any second, plunging me into the universe, the _universes_, that were waiting just a breath, just a wave of a hand away, maybe particles dissolved in the air, maybe molecules of my skin, woven into my clothes: lives of plants, dreams of _bacteria_. Matter was invention, energy was matter, dreams were life, air was a portal, the classroom was a spot of doubt. There is no way to describe the despair contained in a single second of that long hour, the way oxygen felt too far from my sinking lungs, vibrating with a life of their own in my inexistent chest cavity. Anatomy was a joke, science a child's garbled dream: life sprung out from pages of paper, fiction, finally, was reality. And reality was a lie.

During that single nerve-wracking hour, whilst knowing my precise location in space and time, I was utterly and entirely lost.

Only once the bell rang did I find a way back into myself. I whooshed back into my body with a sigh, and my eyes finally saw again. Disturbing theories about other worlds seemed relievingly far away as my (existent) stomach rumbled with hunger and one of my friends caught my arm to pull me towards the cafeteria. Colors seemed oddly bright and distorted, sounds were louder, clearer, but that was the only thing indicating that I had ever wandered farther than material limitations.

After somehow pushing my books into my overstuffed locker, I headed towards my usual and already half crowded table. Danica was spreading cards out for the next game with a few other friends, but I quietly refused to play when she asked me. I settled down in a dreamlike state, seeing the cafeteria for the first time in a global way. As a rule, the large room consisted of my table and the rest; today, however, another table altogether took the place of centre, and everything else gravitated towards it.

Edward Cullen's table. There were only two people at it, Edward and Alice: the others didn't belong in the high school setting. High school. They were planning to stay here for a long time…

And yet, the scene felt oddly familiar, a reminiscence of imaginary deja-vu: this was the cafeteria scene on Bella's first day of school. The setting and people were different, but the essence was the same: a girl and a vampire, sitting at opposite ends of a large room, waiting to share another conversation. What irony: we were having English next.

I wondered mildly why Edward hadn't invited me to eat at his table. 'Getting to know each other' could start right away and not in a few months: I didn't mind in the slightest. And that burning desire to confess: "I know you are a vampire", see his stunned expression, smile a knowing smile and…probably get my neck snapped.

I got back to my cooling food with a sigh, deciding to ignore him while I still could. Soon, he would grow into a permanent obsession. I could imagine myself creeping about at night, lurking beneath his window like a stalker. Not that I knew where he lived. And if I did, there would be no way for me to remain unnoticed…

"The new guy is looking at you." Sam, one of my friends, whispered to me, giving me a hard nudge in the ribs as she said it. Both the effect of her words and her unnecessary act of violence made me sit up, suddenly alert. The piece of chicken that was hanging loosely off my fork at that moment decided to make a dive for freedom and landed right in the middle of my shirt. I groaned internally and wished that Edward wasn't actually looking: he was, not only that, but he was staring at my like I was demented. I nudged Sam back angrily and heard her gasp in pain and indignation. A satisfied smirk grazed my lips, but I repressed it, realizing that would make me look cruel from a distance. I busied myself with trying to wipe the trace of brown sauce the infamous piece of chicken had left on what was one of my only good items of clothing. Trying not to get noticed, I stamped viciously on the offensive meat, which had fallen under the table.

When I looked up again, Edward was smirking at me. I glared his way; almost incredulous to find myself having such childish, commonplace exchanges with him of all people. He was, after all, over 100 years old.

There must have been some change in my expression, because Edward suddenly leaned forward, as if he were trying to hear something I was saying. I realized that he was searching for my thoughts, and felt relieved, once more, that _that_ part of me was inaccessible to him.

Not, of course, that I wanted any other parts to be…

I blushed. I couldn't help it. Blushing seemed to be something I was doing quite a lot lately, and I hated myself for it; it wasn't something that happened to me regularly. As a matter of fact, I prided myself on being fairly phlegmatic-in a wide sense of the term-in every situation.

This was not every situation. Every situation did not include an incredibly handsome and equally bloodthirsty vampire sitting only a few tens of meters away from me.

And then, I decided to accept it.

Just like that, out of nowhere, I realized that fighting against it was pointless, like trying to swim counter-current. If I couldn't believe in what lay right before my eyes, I wouldn't be able to believe in anything, and that would be no good at all. A weight seemed to lift off my shoulders. I sat a bit straighter, breathed a bit deeper. Whether I was right or wrong didn't matter anymore. I stared at Edward and Alice out of the corner of my eye; Edward the mind-reading vampire, Alice the vampire who could see the future, and I didn't care. I turned towards Danica, who seemed to have no trouble at all believing the whole sordid affair, and shared a meaningful glance with her before shutting out the part of my brain screaming 'Edward, Edward, Edward' nonstop so I could concentrate on a conversation about the upcoming math exam. And so, life went on.

I sighed when, after stepping out of my bus, walking the few paces to my house and up the two flights of staircase that led to the messy nest I called my room, dropping my backpack in its usual place in a corner by my desk and flinging my shoes off with blissful relief, the school day finally came to a close. Too much tension—too much stress. And I was so, so tired. My eyes fluttered to a close, eyelids too heavy and mind too exhausted to bother keeping them lifted. Slowly, I drifted away. My thoughts hummed quietly in the back of my head. And as I finally slept, strange dreams of flickering shadows, amber eyes and spots so deep a red they could be nothing other than blood seemed to be the certain portents of upcoming carnage. But when, where or by whom I couldn't tell.

**Whoa…it's been a while. And I feel really guilty about not updating for so long. I have so many plans for this story (though I forgot about half of them) and it seemed like such a shame to drop it now. Hence this chapters (and other to come, too!). So this was…pretty short, but it's mostly filler anyway. Hope you all enjoy! **


	5. Chapter 5

**Edward & Me**

**by: Starskysea**

My whole body was a bundle of nerves as I stood at my locker, turning the dial with shaking fingers and glancing around as if I expected to be pounced upon any minute. I had to admit it, I was excited. It had started with a slight feeling of febrility as I got out of bed this morning, and had escalated all throughout breakfast and the subsequent bus ride to school. My heart was already beating hard as I walked up the big stone steps and through the corridors, scanning the aisle as I went for a sight of _them_. My cheeks felt hot while I was gathering my books—dear god, why had keeping calm been so much easier yesterday after my enlightened decision to simply accept what had been happening? There was nothing more annoying than this ridiculous feeling of exhilaration that just wouldn't die down. Calm down, you idiot. Calm down!

I leaned against my locker, pitching my head backwards with my eyes closed, concentrating on breathing. I had the 'breathe in, pause, breathe out' part nearly down when a sharp blow on my head made me start and let out a shriek.

"Wake up, sleepyhead" Danica grinned at me as I clutched my chest, eyes dilated in shock.

"DANICA!" I gasped, tears nearly streaming down my cheeks. Maybe it was the fright, or my general state that morning, but I was on edge emotionally. Receiving blows was not something I felt like I could handle just at that very moment.

"Hey…hey…"my friend whispered soothingly. "I'm not gonna eat you, you know. Unlike someone…" I tried to stifle a giggle bordering on hyperventilation.

"Yeah, can't be too careful these days, or people might just mistake you for food..." It felt good, this innocuous banter. Helped me stay grounded in ways nothing else could.

"What do you have now, anyway?" she inquired.

I dug around in my backpack to find my timetable, which I never _was_ able to memorize. "Gym", I sighed, dropping the piles of notebooks I had been gathering in favor of the bag which, on good days, contained my gym clothes, and on bad days contained week-old remains of my lunch.

I wasn't especially bad at gym, though I wasn't outstandingly good either. I spent most lessons camping out subtly on the bench, reading a book or chatting with friends who were equally reticent to get out on the field and play whatever team sport the teacher had thought up that day. I only really participated when we got to play badminton: there was something hypnotic about the swish of the birdie flying through the air in a graceful arc, its satisfying thunk as it hit the racket and got propelled, back and forth across the field. Today wasn't a badminton day, I assessed with regret as I sprinted towards my usual corner, trying not to get noticed by the bellowing teacher. Some boys had gotten out basketballs and were throwing them around rather violently before the coach had even made teams. Groaning loudly, I settled down not far from Sam, trying to make myself small and inconspicuous to avoid as much of the torture as possible. I wasn't left by myself long enough to brood though, because Sam pinched my arm and pointed at the door, through which none other than Edward had just passed.

I must have looked pretty shocked, because as his gaze reached me, he smirked and turned his head away elegantly. No—his head wasn't the only elegant thing about him. There was the white t-shirt exposing just the right amount of muscular forearm to make every girl in the room drool noticeably, the knee-length navy blue sports shorts showing off perfectly shaped calves, the slightly tousled hair that hinted at clothes having been pulled over his head in the act of undressing, and a heavenly scowl that looked just the right amount annoyed but still approachable. He nodded at our teacher, who did a double take on this no doubt athletic new student, then sauntered off to sit on one of the empty benches, unaffected by all the attention he was getting.

I couldn't tear my eyes off him. Ever since he had looked at me—and I was the only person he had made eye contact with, I was sure of it!—my blood had been coursing, if possible, even faster through my veins. Much to my dismay, a nagging voice in the back of my head kept reminding me that blood was not a matter I should take lightly anymore. He looked astonishing, yet astonishingly normal: had the Cullen's innate human repellant dissipated since they had left the pages of Twilight to come haunt my little urban existence, or were they just more adept at blending in, I wondered as I saw a flock of guys crowd around him, vying for attention. I gaped as I saw him distribute a couple of polite high fives and thumbs up, still wearing that untroubled air that could only come from being vastly superior to everyone else.

Somebody threw a ball at or towards him: he caught it easily, long pale hand flashing up and accommodating the round object in his palm, cradling it delicate as if it hadn't been hurtling towards him at a high speed only seconds earlier. Some guys whooped, girls gaped with, if possible, even _more_ drool trickling down their sagging chins. Quickly, I wiped away the moisture forming at a corner of my mouth, shaking my head slightly to clear the blush from my cheeks. I would NEVER survive this lesson.

I wasn't on his team, and the thought filled me with an incomprehensible jumble of relief and disappointment, so tightly knotted together I gave up on trying to figure out which one I felt the most. It had its pros and cons, but I suppose it would have made little difference, because failing at watching me from a teammate's vantage point, he observed me from the sidelines. Even though there was no noticeable sign of it, I could feel his gaze follow me around the court, trained on my back like twin golden spotlights. I would have glared back into those eyes if I could, but every time I sneaked a peek at him, he was answering someone's eager questions, making smooth passes to people around him or leaning against the wall, eyes closed, face so smooth it might have been made of stone, with nothing hinting at the fact that he had in any way been following my movements. And then, playing against him…

It was like dancing with a leopard: the whole game centered around him, as if every player shifted imperceptibly to accommodate his presence. He was like a black hole, curbing everyone's awareness towards him until we all flowed in rhythm with some great, swirling, almost hypnotical pattern. Sometimes, he moved in slow motion, big, loping movements swinging the ball around every obstacle with infinitesimal grace. Sometimes, he was a white and bronze dash, a tremor in the air and the swish of the ball flying through the basket, barely displacing the net so precise was its trajectory. Each of his motions sang victory.

When he played, it was like he was focused on nothing other than the game. In fact, it was the only time I got any respite from his eyes, and the neglect stung. Yet there were instants where, rooted to the spot, unable to do anything to seize the ball for my team, I watched him dribble past me, a glowing creature of power and light, and I could feel his eyes tear away from the ball to wink at me, all that focus and intensity dissolving for the one second where he showed me that this was nothing, nothing at all, that he wasn't even thinking about the ball or the game or the classroom, and I wondered, befuddled, what he _was_ thinking about, and whether the show he was putting on was premeditated or just something natural his body did without his mind even having to notice it.

And so, without even having to move around that much, by the end of the class I was breathless, emotionally drained, barely able to move, my limbs aching with a fatigue deeper than flesh and bone. I sagged into a seat in math class, trying to keep my gaze on the teacher through heavy-lidded eyes. The lesson on tangents and sinuses was completely lost on me, so I didn't quite understand what happened when a girl came up to me and asked for help with a math problem.

At first, I just heard a voice, and it pulled me out of my somnolence if only because it was the loveliest thing to have caressed my ears. It took effort, but I managed to turn my head in its direction, seizing the words with a part of my brain I didn't know was functional just then. The rest of me basked inconspicuously for a few seconds, and then I willed my eyes open to see the person standing over me. Jet black hair surrounded a pixie-like face on which every feature breathed beauty. Slim pale fingers held a sheet with math problems. The angelic mouth was still moving. Alice Cullen. Dear god.

Strange as it appears, the first thought that came to my mind was why Alice Cullen would be asking me for help with math. She knew this already. All of this, trig, class, school, was like 2+2=4 to her. She didn't need me.

Remained the only possible explanation: this was an excuse to approach me. Find out more about me, what I knew, why I did what I did—more precisely, the quirk that made my brain so impenetrable for Edward's power. My heart beat a bit faster. This wasn't messages snuck across a desk, or movements in a basketball game. This was a conversation. The real thing.

"So, you want…help?" I choked out, trying to keep my voice neutrally pleasant despite my throat being as dry as a sandy cave.

"If you could just explain this number…" she said, and the sweetness of her voice almost pulled me under again. I shook my head, trying to focus on the paper before me. I knew this. This was theory from the last lesson.

"You have to calculate this angle first, then figure out the length of this side with the formula on the blackboard" I explained faintly, pointing at the appropriate places on the sheet. Her magnetic presence humbled me: I couldn't look into her eyes. I had enough trouble as it was just breathing.

"Thank you so much!" she gushed, all politeness. I watched her pull a chair out and sit opposite to me, elbows on the desk, hands clasped under her chin. She gazed at me pensively.

"Me and my brother are new here…" she started, scrutinizing my face as if the rest of her story was graved on my forehead. "We don't really know the building, or the people."

"You seem to get around just fine." I remarked. I was getting used to her impressive aura; found that I could think more clearly despite having her voice ring like silver bells every time I wasn't saying something.

"Do you think you would mind helping us get better acquainted with this place?" Everything about her was pure innocence. She pleaded like a pro, and I almost fell for it. Almost.

"Is that…wise?" I questioned. It was my turn to search her face. Our eyes met. Sparks of understanding crossed the distance between us. The air tingled with electricity.

I heard her sigh, and she turned her head away first. Her reply was the first thing that sounded like herself, and not a cheerful façade.

"I'm not sure." She answered, gazing into the distance. "But I think we could all profit from careful acquaintance." She said it more to herself than anyone else, probably not expecting me to catch her meaning. I don't know what she was thinking, either of my (more or less) calm attitude or of my intriguing question. But I was sure she didn't suspect, at least yet, my superior knowledge in regard to her and her family's true identity. And if I did accept to, quite innocently, 'show them around', I could spend time with her and Edward, enter that mysterious world more completely and entirely than I could ever have dreamed of. Tentatively, I opened my mouth to pronounce the words that would send my whole universe upside down:

"Okay."


End file.
